


Stuck On You

by missred



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, Surgery, domestic AU, idk - Freeform, sort of???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missred/pseuds/missred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete gets his wisdom teeth out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck On You

“It’ll be over before you know it.” Patrick tried to reassure.

Pete nodded grimly, eyes down as he sat in the waiting room.

“You won’t even know it’s happening.” Patrick tried again, unclasping Pete’s hand and interlocking their fingers.

“ _No_.” Pete clenched his fist. “I’m not letting them put me out.”

“What? Pete, what are you gonna do, let them rip your teeth out and hope you can stay still?”

“They can numb it or some shit Rick, I’m not going to sleep.”

Patrick didn’t have time to argue further because a nurse stepped forward with a chart.

“Mr. Wentz? Just fill these forms and we’ll be ready for you.”

Pete accepted the chart and proceeded to fill it out with his head down, resolutely ignoring Patrick. When he reached the bottom line, where he needed to give consent for anesthesia, he put the pen away. Patrick took the chart and turned so his face was right in front of Pete’s.

“Hey. Do you trust me?”

“Not fair.” Pete mumbled. “You know I do.”

“Would I ever let you do anything that would hurt you?”

Pete shook his head, but the worry line that creased his forehead remained. For someone who messed with pills more than most when he was younger, he’d never done well with anesthesia. He’d tried explaining it to Patrick once, how it made him feel like slipping and being drowned and falling all at once--out of control. It didn’t sound pleasant. But Patrick knew he’d regret it if he didn’t take the anesthesia now.

“Trust me on this one, okay?”

Pete nodded.

“Okay.”

* * *

 They let Patrick come back with Pete. There was a look of determination in his eyes when the assistant placed the mask over his face. He was clenching Patrick’s hand, white knuckled, until he’d taken enough deep breaths that his grip slackened.

A nurse came and retrieved Patrick from the waiting room once they had finished with Pete.

Patrick was there when he first tried opening sleep hazy eyes. His blinks were slow and he kept his eyes closed for long intervals, like he was fighting sleep. Before he was properly awake he was reaching for Patrick.

“ ‘Trick, wha’s…” Pete trailed off, reaching his arm out and gripping Patrick’s offered hand.

“Hey, just rest for a minute, okay?” Patrick shifted so Pete’s hold didn’t make his arm go numb, and let him hang on as his eyes shut again.

Half an hour later Pete was awake enough to stand and very insistently asking to go home. The nurse handed Patrick a prescription of Vicodin and instructions to change Pete’s gauze every thirty minutes until the bleeding stopped. Patrick kept an arm firmly around Pete as he stumbled through the waiting room. Patrick bundled him into the car and had to tuck his hands under his ass to keep him from unbuckling the seatbelt.

“Pat..yougluedme.” Pete was shaking his head slowly and staring at his legs covering his hands.”

Patrick glanced over to make sure Pete was okay while still keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah man. You just gotta stay still ‘til we get home.”

Pete kept looking over at Patrick in a way he must have thought was sneaky and wiggling his hands trapped under his thighs, but he didn’t try to unbuckle his seatbelt again, so Patrick counted it as a win.

The only real issue was when Patrick stopped at CVS to fill Pete’s prescription. Patrick had left him in the car with the assurance that he’d be right back and sprinted into  the pharmacy, not wanting to leave Pete alone for too long. Pete had nodded and seemed okay when he left, but when Patrick returned, Pete burned into tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Pete was leaning into Patrick as best he could with the seatbelt on and over the center console, and he was hiccuping a little as he cried.

you--disappeared--like---POOF no more Patrick.” Pete explained shakily.

It wasn’t funny. Patrick wasn’t going to laugh. He cracked the smallest smile and reassured Pete he had not gone poof. Pete spent the rest of the car ride home staring at Patrick with wide eyes, “so you don’t disappear”

Pete was still pretty shaky on his legs when they made it through the front door and Patrick didn’t want to try to take him up the stairs. He settled for the couch and pulled out the throw blankets from the cabinet.

In the thirty seconds it took him to do it, Pete was gone. He choked back the flash of panic that hit him and headed for the kitchen, which was closest to the living room. Pete had pulled his gauze out and was staring in horror at the bloody bunches on the kitchen counter.

“’trick, my mouth’s fallin out.” He said, blood already pooling at his lips.

“ _Shit_ , Pete! C’mere.” Patrick grabbed the gauze package and ripped it open, tapping Pete’s upper lip as gently as he could, “Open.”

It was tricky, because Pete didn’t seem to have total control of his mouth, but Patrick got him to open wide enough he could pack the fresh gauze back in. He let his breath out in the huff and took Pete over to the sink to clean him up and wash his hands.

“Alright, bedtime.” Patrick decided.

Pete followed him docily to the couch and Patrick trucked him under a blanket with a pillow to keep his head up. Patrick turned on the tv, but Pete was asleep before the first commercial break.

After about an hour, Patrick woke him up to change his gauze again, and Pete seemed more with it. He rubbed his eyes and tried to touch the back of his jaw, but it made him wince. He let Patrick change the gauze, which had much less blood than before, to Patrick’s relief. He went back to the couch with Patrick without complaint, and rested there quietly for close to two hours, watching _Hercules_. Patrick checked the gauze, which came out clean, so he left it out. Pete looked pleased to have his mouth empty again, but then he drew his eyebrows together.

“Fuckin hurts, Rick.” He said, curled against Patrick.

“Okay. I--Okay.” Patrick hesitated. He didn’t wanted to give Pete any medication on an empty stomach.

“Do you think you can drink anything?”

Pete shook his head vehemently.

“Just water?” Patrick tried. “Or broth? I can heat up some.”

Pete looked miserable.

“Do I have to?”

Patrick was torn.

“They gave you Vicodin.”

Pete groaned lowly.

“So it’s eat now or puke later.”

Patrick nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“S’not your fault.”

They settled on broth, lukewarm.

Pete grimaced every time he took a sip, but eventually he’d gotten half a mug full down, and Patrick figured that would be enough to keep the medicine from making him too nauseated.

The Vicodin helped. but it made Pete sleepy again, and he spent most of the day asleep with his head in Patrick’s lap on the couch.

Patrick didn’t mind really, he could get a lot done on his phone and he could keep an eye on Pete that way.

At 10 pm he woke Pete up and helped him upstairs. Pete barely opened his eyes.

Patrick brought his laptop up and plugged his headphones in, messing around on garageband while Pete slept with one hand gripping Patrick’s arm.

In the morning, Pete claimed to feel much better, but his jaw looked swollen and stiff, and he got so lightheaded getting out of bed that he fell into Patrick.

“I can feel my whole mouth again, that’s an improvement,” Pete insisted.

“Uh huh.” Patrick agreed placatingly. “Don’t try and get up without me.”

Pete made a frustrated noise but agreed to Patrick’s terms.

He ended up spending most of the day in bed anyways, holding an ice pack to his face.

He refused to take any more Vicodin because of how tired it made him, but let Patrick coax him into a couple Ibuprofen. By the end of the day, he could get out of bed without getting too light headed, as long as he was slow, and Patrick had gotten him to drink a cup of tea and a couple of mugs of broth.

“Sorry I’m being so lame.” Pete murmured. It was 9:45 and he was already starting to get that drowsy “fighting sleep” look Patrick was used to seeing him around 4 am.

“You’re not being lame, you had surgery.” Patrick replied, swiftly shutting down Pete’s apology.

“I haven’t done _anything_ for the past two days. And you’ve just been stuck with me the whole time. Lame.” Pete returned.

“Did you forget the part where you had your teeth yanked out of your head? And I’m not stuck with you, you’re stuck with me. As far as I’m concerned, this is a freaking vacation. When else do I get you all to myself?” Patrick grinned and poked Pete playfully.

There was a poorly concealed relief in Pete’s eyes. Patrick read it as _notapainnotaburdenstillwantsusstillwantsme_. He’d seen it more when they’d first started dating, but it had been a while and he was sort of surprised to see it now. Being forced to take a break was harder on him than Patrick remembered. 

“You know I love you, right?”

Pete breathed into his pillow for a moment and Patrick watched his shoulders relax.

 **“** Right **.”**

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request I got forever ago and actually loved, but had a heck of a time getting written. Sorry it took do long--hope you like it


End file.
